Crimson Red Eyes
by EnchiladaZombie
Summary: Prussia looks like no other person, silver hair, pale skin and crimson red eyes. These unique looks make villagers uneasy and convinced he is a devil and hunt him down through the forest. No one shows him kindness, not even a priest. Instead they kidnap him and starve him convinced they can preform an exorcism on the 'demon'. Is he really the monster they think he is?
1. Fire and Poppy Flowers

**Hi there! This is my very first fanfic! Yaay!**

**Anyways, I'm super nervous about it so if you read this, please critic it! **

**Thank you! **

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The sound of snapping branches and heavy breathing followed Prussia as he ran as fast as he could. Foggy breath seeped from his cracked, dehydrated lips. Hid eyes were swollen and wet, his throat stung as he held back tears as well as fear. Prussia looked behind him for a moment, men and women ran after him. Shouting and screaming, they help silver crosses. Others held torches, wooden stakes, bibles or muskets.

"The power of Christ compels you! The power if Christ compels you!"

"Go back to hell, Devil!"

"Die! Die!"

The yells of the horde echoed in the forest Prussia ran through. He was growing weary, his pale body aches and his knees wiggled. Prussia could hardly hold his own weight anymore. He had not slept in weeks, and hadn't eaten in 2 days. A thorny shrub was in front of him. Big enough he hadn't the time to go around it, he attempted to jump over or through it.

Prussia stepped on a tree stump and used it to propel himself over the thorny shrub, but he was too weak. He tumbled on the ground, the thorns cut and scraped him. His ankle was caught and twisted in the thorns.

"Verdammt!" he cursed under his breath as he frantically pulled at the thorns that pierced Prussia's ankles.

The ankle was probably broken since when he jumped her ankle was caught and Prussia instinctively turned to land on his feet; henceforth twisting and snapping the bone. The pain was horrid and covered his lower leg and foot. Thorns pierced his hands, sending warm blood dripping down his arm and soaking the soil beneath him.

Time was running out and the horde of men got closer. Prussia managed to free his ankle and limp away, bloody and bruised. He limped as fast as he could, wincing with each step and whimpering with hot tears at every branch, insect or leaf that touched his swollen ankle.

Prussia was week and injured, malnourished and sleep deprived. He was no match for the well fed, healthy people who sought to torture him for the demon he saw them eyes. Hair as light and silvery as newly polished silver, much unlike the greasy, black, soot-like hair of everyone else. His skin was pale as snow and porcelain like a marble statue, beautiful on women but strange on men. Worst of all, his eyes were crimson red. They stood out like fresh blood on crisp snow against his complexion. The mark of the Devil, that's what they said. Prussia began to believe so, living on his own. Leaving his young brother, Germany with his grandfather, Germania. Prussia truly believed the devil lived inside him until he met Austria and Hungary, who understood him. Accepted him and loved him even if Prussia refused to admit he loved them too.

The shouting of Biblical verse grew closer, louder. A priest held holy water and shouted verses believed to be used for exorcism. Prussia could not run, he became dizzy and light headed. Sleep deprivation caused him to be bleary eyed, and confused. The trees seemed to move in his mind as he looked around lost and confused. Black spots appeared in his vision until his silver eye lashes fluttered and closed. Prussia collapsed unto the forest floor, he blacked out. Asleep and helpless around monsters of men.

Prussia's eyes fluttered open, he was hardly conscious before his eyes shut again. This went on for several weeks. He slipped in and out of consciousness. Eventually, he woke and stayed awake. He saw that he was locked in a musty old cellar. He was laying on a canvas sack that had been cut open and laid out on the ground. Another was wrapped around his leg, it was probably laid on him as a blanket but had been kicked off in his sleep.

The cellar was dark and damp, removed off all the wine. A makeshift prison, he thought. The only light source was run the underneath of an oak door with an iron handle that was removed from the door and laid at the bottom of the steps which led to the door.

Prussia stood up but quickly lost his balance and fell to his knees. After another trial and fail he managed to get up. He searched for food or drink that might have been left but only found half a loaf of moldy stale bread. He bit into the bread, winced, and swallowed.

After forcing himself to eat the bread he walked up the steps to the door way. He looked under the crack of the door. The small amount of light hurt his eyes compared to the darkness of the cellar. He couldn't see a thing and didn't hear anything either. The Prussian stood up and felt the walls. There was a crack on the left side. He slipped his left hand into the crack and gripped it as well as he could. His right hand was pressed against the right wall. In one solid movement his pressed against the wall with all he could which was enough to lift him. He slammed his legs into the door. Nothing happen. Prussia tried again. A piece of wood broke. He gave the next kick everything he had with a loud grunt. His eyes instinctively shut themselves as a large hole was knocked into the wall.

The bright light felt as though it blinded Prussia. He squinted and reached through the hole and felt around for the handle. He pressed down the notch and pulled it open. He covered his eyes with his hand as he walked out.

"Mutti! Vati!" Prussia heard the sharp scream of a young, human girl. The scream was preceded by the clash of dropped cast iron and the shatter of glass.

"Hush! Nein, silence!" Prussia pleaded with the girl frantically. He went to cover her mouth but she bit his hand, digging her teeth deep into his skin. He shouted and pulled his hand back and looked at the bite marks on his hand. The scars from the thorns could still be seen.

A man with an old axe rushing in the door, he was the girl's father. "You Devil!" he hissed.

Prussia looked around, scared out of his mind. He looked left and right for something to defend himself with. The girl's mother opened the door and walked in with wide eyes before running out, she was going to get the horde of monstrous men that chased him. The ones who hurt him. Prussia acted on a whim and ran for the door. The girl screamed again and the father reached for Prussia.

"Let me go!" Prussia shouted and punched the father in the jaw sending him stumbling back. Prussia broke free and ran out the door. Outside the home were wheat fields and apple orchids. Men and women filled the fields so Prussia ran the other way. He turned the corner of the home and ran straight into the horde of men. He stumbled back and slipped on the mud, landing on his back. He fumbled back to his feet, his boots, hands, and back covered in dirt. Prussia attempted to run the other way but the father stood in his way holding the axe.

Once again, he tried to run through the father but Prussia was pulled away by other men. Prussia kicked and screamed. Prussia kicked a bearded man in the face while he panicked, breaking the bearded man's nose. The father of the young girl hit Prussia's forehead with the back of the axe, knocking him unconscious.

Piercing sounds rang through Prussia's ears. Red-brown blood covered the right side of his forehead. It dripped down his face but dried and turned crusty and maroon in color. The world around Prussia shook and spun, the bright sunlight burned his eyes and skin. He was probably sunburned and peeling.

With blurry vision he blinked a few time and looked down. It took a few moment for him to recognize the situation. Splintering rope wrapped around his body, poking through his pale flesh. The rope tied him to a tall, upright log. Larger splinters from the old, moldy, damp log penetrated in to his spin and back. Dazed and confused he looked down at his feet. Smaller pieces of wood, hay and moss surrounds him. Villagers with crucifix's and holy water stared at him in fear.

A priest reassured the villagers that he would crucify the 'witch', the 'devil', the 'mister'. Whatever they believed he was. Next to the priest was a starry eyed girl with pale skin much like Prussia's and platinum blonde hair not much unlike the hair of Prussia's. She was so similar to himself in many ways. The main difference was his crimson red eyes and her sea green eyes. Her silky hair was braided back and she walked over to him and gazed into his red eyes without fear or hesitation. Her blonde eye lashes flickered like butterflies she handed him a red poppy flower.

"Isn't it pretty?" she asked with a giggle.

Prussia looked her blankly.

"It look like your eyes, doesn't it? They are very pretty." She smiled looking at the poppy flower on his lap. Prussia looked down at it, his silver lashes sending shadows on his cheek bones.

"I wish I had pretty eyes like yours."

Prussia looked at her quickly and his parched throat made it hard for him to form words. "N-no… You don't…"

The girl looked up at him, "My name is Genevieve. What's your name?"

"I don't have a name. I'm not like everyone else…"

"Gilbert. You look like a Gilbert!"

Prussia smiled through cracking and peeling lips. "Gilbert it is."

The priest pulled the girl away, his smile faded and tears dripped from his eye which turned swollen. He slouched over and white hair fell in his face. Through silent cries of despair he asked Genevieve a heart breaking question, "Am I a monster?"

Holy water was poured on his head. Dripping down onto his face, mixing with tears. Genevieve lipped an answer, 'No.' Her closed lip smile and wonderful eyes looked at him with her lashes catching the sun. She looked like an angel. He looked like a devil.

Rocks were rubbed together sending sparks into the hay. A fire was started at his feet, they would burn him alive. Genevieve stopped smiling and looked around in confusion as the heat caused Prussia is sweat and wince.

The fire spread up his legs, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in pain. His skin felt like it was melting as his white tweed clothing helped the fire grow as it burnt up. Genevieve screamed, she was the only one who wasn't smiling. She ran toward Prussia but was snatched up. She watched in horror as Prussia was eventually engulfed in flames but still alive, still breathing, still screaming.


	2. Our Life Will Be Sorrowful

It felt like an eternity in hell, yet is was only a few hours while fire raged furiously on Prussia's skin. He screamed in pain until his voice cracked. Prussia made no sound, he only looked at the priest with his red eyes that glowed in the fire. He stared at the priests cold gray eyes with hatred, Prussia had never before hated anyone like he hated the villagers. The people who wanted to kill him, the people who hurt him. Prussia cried, he could feel the tears coming from his eyes but within seconds evaporating in the fire.

The priest was horrified as Prussia did not die. Everyone else he burned died within a few minutes, every innocent soul he burned alive. Why was he any different? Prussia wasn't human like the other innocent people who were burned at the stake when other thought they were Devils. Prussia was a nation, he was the personification of his people. He wondered if that was true, was he as monstrous as they?

The fire died and by then Prussia had blacked out. The pain to immense for him. Villagers left one by one, they were bored. No one was dying, screaming or crying so they all left. How sick could they be to enjoy watching people die so painfully?

Prussia woke up to the cold night air and a sting on his arm. His eyes looked over to the origin, it was Genevieve. She can a pail of water and a wash rag, dipping the rag in the water and wringing it out. She used her small hands to place the cool, damp rag on his arm. Her sea green eyes were saddened and puffy. Her thick lashes were wet as well, she cried for him, no one had ever cried for him before.

"Does it hurt?" Genevieve asked as she noticed he was awake.

He tried to speak but could not, instead he looked at his exposed skin. Burnt horridly, some skin looked almost black as soot and peeled out of the way to reveal under layers of skin, also burnt. Prussia managed a painful smile, the skin of his lips had burnt and pulled away. Miraculously, his burns were mostly 2nd degree and a few on his arms, chest and neck were 3rd degree. He wasn't human, he didn't die like humans did or get hurt as easily as they did. His wounds would heal fast.

"I've never seen some on live from that." Genevieve said as she applied more cold water to aid his pain. "Usually I see vati carry out the bodies. Burnt to a crisp."

Prussia leaning on the log that was once damp but now was black and burnt, some places were white like ash. The ropes had burnt away after he had passed out. He would run if he could. Oh, how he would run with the cold hair burning his lungs and watering eyes as he searched desperately for his brother, Germany.

Genevieve looked as though she was 10, at most but she acted beyond her years. She brought water to Prussia's lips with cupped hands. The cool water felt like a drop a heaven after drowning in the fiery lakes of hell. Prussia drank three handfuls of water with Genevieve's help before her screams interrupted the peacefulness.

The priest snatched her hair and yanked her back. "No daughter of mine would help the devil!"

Prussia wanted to knock the man's teeth out for all he's done, he wanted to make him way. He wanted to go home, to feel safe. He wanted to make the priest stop hurting people. Prussia tried to stand up but quickly lost his footing from his lack of strength. He lay on the floor, twitching like a helpless child.

"But you aren't my daughter are you? The devils gotten you." The priest shouted and threw Genevieve aside. She yelped. The priest kicked Prussia, his leather boot rammed into his ribs. Genevieve screamed, cried for him to stop. Prussia couldn't even cry for help, he laid there and took the kicks until there was a crack. This rib had been broken, it hurt for him to even breathe now.

Never in his life had Prussia been so helpless. He rolled over on his back, managing painful coughs. Genevieve crawled over to him, tears rushing down her face. She'd been so kind to him and Prussia couldn't tell why. All she wished to do was help him, save him from her own father. For all her kindness she was thanked by her father's dirty boot pushing her face into the ground. Genevieve yelped like a sick puppy as she tried to wiggle from beneath her vicious father's foot. The sound of her jaw cracking rang through Prussia's ears as the priest's knee bashed into her chin.

Genevieve landed on the ground, loose and limp. Air was sucked in through her teeth and he lip quivered. She felt so cold, lost, and afraid. A single glass like tear escaped her sparkling, pain-filled eyes. The millions of star and infinite galaxies reflected in her eyes. Gilbert could see that as he forced himself over to her. He helped her thin, slender hand. It felt as smooth as porcelain.

Genevieve's chest raised and fell dramatically, she wanted to cry so much, to tell Prussia she was sorry for her father's actions but she should hardly move her face anymore. She looked at Prussia like he was an angel sent for her, a devil like her. Prussia squeezed her hand. He was sent an angel named Genevieve. An angel sent to protect and wretched devil like himself.

The priest pulled Genevieve from Prussia's grasps as he final managed the strength to hold her in his arms. In his gut he knew she would die, a fragile doll like her was broke by a malicious man. Genevieve was pulled away by the arms and dragged through dirt and mud. A bearded man did the same to Prussia. They would be tortured again, he knew it. Only now Genevieve would die and Prussia wouldn't. As long as his countries people lived, so would her.

Cast iron cuffs snapped shut around Prussia's ankles. Prussia's burns were filled with dirt, he could feel insects crawl around inside his open wounds. They were dragged through the forest until they reached a large pond. On the shore is where the cuffs were placed on Prussia's ankles then Genevieve's. The cuffs had rusty chains with a weight ball at the end.

Prussia didn't die by fire and now the priest would try to kill him by water. The pond was shallow for a few feet but then suddenly drops off, deep enough for Prussia to be submerged. The priest threw Prussia's weakened body into the deeper part of the water, he tried to swim up and caught a gasp of air before the weight was thrown in. Prussia thrashed wildly as he slowly descended to the bottom. In this weak stated he couldn't swim but he couldn't drown.

There was a splash of water as Genevieve was tossed in like a rag doll. Her platinum blonde hair flowed in the water, wrapping itself around her face and neck like twisted vines. Genevieve was awake her cheeks help air. The eyes that once were a cheerful sea green looked cold, dead and gray as they looked at Prussia.

The weight plummeted to the bottom, pulling Genevieve down. Her arms floated above her head, Prussia screamed and cursed but bubbles of air just escaped his lip just like how air escaped from Genevieve's lips, her eyes widened. She breathed in water.

Do you know what it feels like to drown? To thrash about for help knowing the only ones who knew you were drowning wanted you to die horribly? It felt like Prussia's lungs turned to concrete and were seconds from exploding. He wished he would die but he wouldn't.

Genevieve's hand reached out for help her eyes widened and she screamed. She couldn't breathe for 15 full minutes. 15 minutes of water flooding through your mouth and nose, knowing it was your father who killed you. The sun began to rise and rays of sun light shone through her fingertips. Those fifteen minutes lasted forever as Prussia watched Genevieve die. She stopped reaching for help, she looked over to Prussia in fear seconds before he saw the life escape her eyes.

Prussia felt the same pain as her for hours on end. He wished this never to happen to her but was glad Genevieve didn't have to endure it as long as he did. By now it was midafternoon and Prussia prayed for death, he wanted the struggle and pain to stop. Water rushed in his lungs, it was pushed out then rushed back in. Why couldn't he just die already? He wanted to die! No matter how hard he wished for death he knew that countries only die one of two ways: killed by another country or the death of most or all citizens. Even if the country was abolished the personification would live on. In rare occasions abolished countries were like ghosts, their presence sensed but unseen.

Time went on, long enough for Genevieve's body to turn blue. Her body floated and slowly turned, revealing her eyes that were once sea green but were now cloudy and blue. Bloodshot as well, just like Prussia's. The extreme pain turned him faint and weak but at the same kept him from passing out. Genevieve's cloudy eyes stared into Prussia, her pale colorless lips spoke to him. He was hallucinating. She told him that someone was passing by, and Prussia went silent. He heard murmurs above the walker. Prussia turned and spun in the water and reached up trying to jump out. He opened him mouth and screamed, no bubbles escaped he had no air in his lungs. Undesired pressure grew in his lungs, they felt like they'd explode by now. The water was deep but shallow enough that if Prussia pushed himself as high as he could in the water and reached his shrived and pruned hand up he was inches from reaching air.

_Swim down to the weights and swim up with it, _Prussia imagined Genevieve telling him. He mouthed a thank you to her corpse before sinking to the bottom, which wasn't difficult since he lacked air in his body. He was just about naked due to the fire but scraps of clothes remained. His shirt was burnt on the back and fell off. He grabbed the weight, noticing his wounds were mostly healed. A few burns remained and the water washed all death flesh and dirt away. He grabbed the weight with a soundless grunt.

It was heavy in this weakened, airless state of Prussia's. He managed to swim up a few feet before sinking again. Prussia wrapped the chain around his leg and up and his shoulder, were the weight dangled from. He hoped since the weight did not drag him nor did he have to carry it, he would swim up higher. He kicked furiously and pushed water beneath him. _They are leaving, Gilbert. Hurry! _he once again imagines Genevieve talking, using that name she gave him.

Prussia felt warm air touch his shriveled fingertip, a contrast to the cold water he was submerged in. He was so close, he pushed up harder and trashed his hand. Eventually his whole hand was out of the water, trashing about, catching the attention of the people Prussia correctly guess were there.

Germany insisted to Germania that they continued searching for Prussia who'd wandered off days back. Germania was a man off like words and Prussia was very distasteful in his eyes. A no good failure, an idiot with a selfish head of hot air. Skinny and weak, not to bright either unlike his brother to the west, Germany. Germany was younger than Prussia but stronger, skilled fighter and strategically intelligent as well as grounded and disciplined. Germania refused to spend any more of his time searching for an oaf who was probably out on his own hitting on women, or worse. Messing with that damned country always getting beaten by the Ottoman Empire, Hungary.

Something small and pale poked out of the lake they stopped by to rest. "What was that?" Germany turned and asked.

Germania shrugged silently.

"A fish I suppose." Germany replied to himself and walked to the waters edge to refill a cow skin container with water. He cupped water in his pale but slightly tanned hands and splashed it on his face, he rubbed dirt off and slicked back his sweaty blonde hair. A hand popped out of the water merely a yard from Germany. It reached and thrashed about. A white figure was submerged beneath it.

Germania looked up with his green eyes in a monotone voice said, "A hand. Hmm," as Germanys icy blue eyes widened and be fell back on his rear with a gasp. The hand thrashed a bit more, shriveled up and burnt on the palm. The hand sunk under and Germany shot to his feet, dropping his sword, daggers, water container, boots and belt before diving in.

Germany looked around in the water to see his albino brother. Prussia's skin looked strange, Germany told himself it was the water messing up his vision before he put an arm around his brother. Germany felt how Prussia's skin had dents and scars in it, a chain wrapped up his leg. Another body was seen in the corner of his eye.

Watery sick was vomited by Prussia the very second his lips reached warm air. Germany dragged him to the shore. Prussia's lungs seemed to shrivel as his gasped viciously for air while water, vomit, foam and blood poured from his mouth. Painful tears leaked from his eyes as his hand clenched the ground with such force his fingers bled as the nail was separated from the nail bed. Prussia convulsed, his head jerking back as vomit continued flowing down his face and neck. Prussia's stomach wrenched and tightened itself his lungs forcing water out. Germany held Prussia's head as it jerked. "West…" Prussia managed with a painful cry between gasps.

After five minutes of consecutive convulsions Prussia calmed down and breathed normally. "West," Prussia struggled for air as he talked. "T-thank god, I was so afraid. In so much pain. T-they hurt me, West. They b-burned me alive… drowned me." Prussia cried and sucked air through his teeth, pointing to the water.

"Shut up, Prussia. Men don't cry." Germania looked down at Prussia in disgust as Prussia cried, his head on Germanys lap. Germania kicked dirt at Prussia's face. Germany sighed and wipes it away.

After Prussia managed his strength, Germany gave him spare clothes. Prussia remained barefoot due to a lack of extra boots. He stared into the water as Germany jumped back in to retrieve Genevieve. She laid limp on the shore. Her wet clothes stuck to her blue, cold body. Cloudy eyes stared at the sky, fear could still be seen in them. Germany and Germania left Prussia alone, only feet away so he could bury her.

Pale fingers closed Genevieve's eyelids, hiding her cloudy eyes behind long, elegant, blonde lashes. Prussia held back tears causing his throat to burn as his placed red poppy flowers in her cold hands, crossing them over her chest. He remembered what she said to him.

Prussia remembered how her blonde eye lashes flickered like butterflies she handed him a red poppy flower. How she giggled and asked him about the poppy flower, _Isn't it pretty_?"

Prussia had merely looked at her blankly. _It look like your eyes, doesn't it? They are very pretty. _

With his head in his dented, burnt palms Prussia rubbed his tears away and smiled, "I think maybe you were an Angel. God sent you didn't he? To give me hope. Hope for myself and this world. Now I know there is good in the world."

Prussia combed her platinum blonde hair with his fingers and braided it, "You look a lot like me. Pale skin, light hair and strange eyes. Does that mean I am an angel too? I guess I'll find out when I die. It will happen one day, I know so. I just hope my death is not at the hands of my brother like yours was at the lands of your vati."

A black, metal pendant was around Genevieve's neck, it was a cross, like that of the tectonic knights. Prussia would go on to wear it daily, around his neck and eventually on his uniform in World War II. Prussia kissed her forehead. "Good bye Genevieve. Put a good word in for me with the man upstairs, okay?" He looked up at the skin and smiled brightly.

Genevieve's body laid under a blossoming tree, bright poppy flowers in her hair and in her hands. Prussia had painted her lips with berry so she would looks beautiful and vibrant, the poppies. Prussia walked over to Germany and smiled telling him he was ready to leave.

"You know West, I finally understand why vati always says not to love humans. Do you know why? They always die in the end. You can't protect them, they don't live for a long time like us. They die and waste away. We watch them waste away and we never even age. Our life will be sorrowful, West."

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**Hello,**

**Thanks for reading! I wanted to clarify that when Prussia says he knows he will die but he doesn't want to at the hands of his family (namely Germany) that was a reference to how Germany abolishes Prussia in WWII or metaphorically killing him. I hope I made it clear but I may not have so just bringing in a little sad irony.**


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